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 Jan 2013 F White
mûre
A family man, running spandexed and puffing
reaches into the stroller at the crest of the hill
as the day sighs away the last of its dusk
hands a three year old a flashlight
and makes her a secret-wink promise.
You'll move so quickly on your path,
it's your duty to carry a light with you
to keep you and others safe.


A stern man and a hot scratchy washcloth
removing a Spice Girls bubblegum tattoo from
the nose of a seven year old, molecule by molecule.
As soon as you get caught up in superficiality,
that's when you'll make mistakes. Don't make
mistakes that will last.


A medic man returns from a surgery
from a rural village with more kindness than money.
Lays a basket of apples and a banana loaf on the table
in lieu of a cheque and says:
There will be opportunities in your life for
your actions to define the kind of person you are-
always take them-

and never forget your common humanity.


An animal man bursts into the room
with a puppy as new as a sparrow
gamboling, loving, seeking faces and laps.
When choosing your first dog, look for
one that has more loyalty than shrewdness.
Choose your friends that way, too.


A tired man breathes deeply instead of shouting
at the quivering teen and the confession of the bumper
and the scratch that shouldn't have happened.
Hurt softly with the truth.... but never with lies.

A romantic man recounts his history
raising his eyebrows at the score of his frolics
and makes me swear to fall madly in like
with every soul who my heart should kiss-
but Love, reserve Love as the most sacred
of words, deeds, beings. When you Love,
you and he shall become one another,
and be one life.


A sentimental man wears a silver crown
at the head of his dinner table meditating in
silence after the laughs and mayhem of his
family clan have subsided to the fireplace.

He looks at his daughter.
She looks at her father.

The fullness of her adult face
and Polish eyes reflect in his irises
blue inside blue inside blue inside blue-
making any separation between them
redundant, intangible, like-
mirrors facing mirrors-
as the roots of the
Tree run as deep as soul itself
and he murmurs:

*The day you hear the cry of your firstborn child
is the day you discover the meaning of your life-

and nothing will ever, ever be the same.
 Jan 2013 F White
mûre
Sweet girl.
 Jan 2013 F White
mûre
Always take the stairs, my dove.
Sweet girl, put away your knife.
You need not cut asunder these vines
they'll make you grow so tall in life.

Always stand up straight, my heart
Let them see your imp eyes burn
as you sing in constellations
swirl as you turn.

Always mismatch your socks, my dear
Never forfeit your spontaneity
for conformity, my sweet,
live your eleven in gaiety.

Always love your love freely, pet
My baby sister, your soul consumes
each who touch it, it follows me still,
bursting like a rose in bloom.
 Jan 2013 F White
kara lynn bird
I can hear my wrist watch beating in my head like a constant reminder of you- tick, tick, tick, tick. And  I'm not complaining but it would nice to know if you think of me too. My room is silent again - the kind of silence that you can hear, I'm not sure if its true but in hoping you think of me too. It's the middle of the night and I lay awake writing- I'm not trying to be rude, but am I the only one fighting? Don't get me wrong, I'm not in a hurry, I'd wait five hundred years if Iknew not to worry- that one day- you will or won't, be mine.
 Jan 2013 F White
dj
Mothra
 Jan 2013 F White
dj
I never noticed until now
Detroit is a real town

Thru a puddle, I go
Past the shuttered laundromat
The charcoal stump colonials
Carnivorous ivy
Strangling the
Rustbolt cars lining the
Pothole roads that I never noticed
Until now, Detroit is a real town

At the corner of Rosa Parks Dr.,
A rotting moonlight and gasoline aroma
A damp liquor store and a bus-stop
               sign,
6 ghosts linger around the metal post
Like silvery mothra ,
Clinging at night to an outdoor light
The saviour stop.
For tiffany spirits
With expressionless faces.

Two phantom headlights manifest
Out of the indescribable looming night
And park at the sign

The ghosts faint
Thru the double doors
Of one rickety, dutiful citybus
The tailpipes dripping wil-o'-the-wisp
As it proceeds out of my view
Into dark night shade.









.
I wish I could say this was a dramatization. The area surrounding UofDM (the small, private, Catholic sancturary of a college I used attend) gives me the chills at night. And I swear, every person I would see at the bus stops (there really is a street called Rosa Parks Dr. with a corner bus stop) looked like a ghost.
 Jan 2013 F White
dj
Waiting
 Jan 2013 F White
dj
Gargoyles live on my awning
The one overhanging my bedroom window

Like bats, they'll hang upside down
And stare in at me
 Jan 2013 F White
dj
Rhododendron
 Jan 2013 F White
dj
she's not here anymore
so why don't I just
go away

her car is here, her home
is here. Even her cat is here
And her gardens are, too

sailed on and on
It's over, it's been over,
her shadow's parked on those hallways

she's not here anymore
so why don't I just
go away
 Jan 2013 F White
Marsha Singh
No Garden, but this stand of
pines, and no serpents just this
side of night, but a sleepy,
startled porcupine; I'll offer you
some apple wine. You'll kiss
me in the fading light; I'll love
you without shame this time.
 Jan 2013 F White
Marsha Singh
For the same reasons that I stay hungry
for dinner and tired for bed, I keep my
heart a little lonely for poetry; that way,
I can imagine your weathered hands against
my pale thighs as clinging starfish – my
fingernails, bleached cockleshells washed up
on the barely evening beach of your back.
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